Inside the Echo

by Jen Blood

  “Do you think Casper is up for the job?” Ren asked doubtfully.

  Casper lifted his head at mention of his name. He was dry now, and remarkably bright eyed given the evening we’d had.

  “He’s fine,” Bear said. “You guys were only out for a few hours. He’s still got plenty of juice. I’m more worried about you and Jack,” he said. “You’re not as young as you used to be, you know.”

  Jack came down the stairs just in time to hear the words. “It’s funny how kids age you,” he said dryly. “But your mom and I should be fine. Thanks for the concern.”

  Hogan still hadn’t moved from the stove, and I quickly got serious again.

  “We’ll be careful, but I’m not sure when we’ll be back,” I said to Bear. “You two are okay here on your own?”

  They nodded, and I knew I had no choice but trust them. They were both responsible kids; I had to believe that good judgment would prevail right now.

  Within ten minutes, we had everything sorted and Casper harnessed and ready to go.

  “You ready?” I asked Hogan.

  He turned. I was startled for a second by the darkness, the utter defeat, in his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 26

  TWO SNOWMOBILES TOOK US through the woods and along the river until we reached the point where Charlie Babcock’s body had been found. This was now the official Place Last Seen for Megan and Violet, according to what Ava said. As such, it was up to us to go through the area with our dogs one more time to see if we came up with anything.

  Search teams were already spread through the area, the forest alive with floodlights and the shouts, barks, and yowls of the searchers and their dogs. Up ahead on the trail, I caught sight of another team. The warden among them, his features indistinguishable between his slicker and the driving sleet, waved at sight of us and hurried in our direction.

  “Glad you could make it back out,” the warden said. Up close now, I could see that he was a shorter man, wiry and lean. “We’ve got teams spread out across the southern quadrant here, but we need somebody to take the other side of the river. You up for it?”

  “Sure,” Hogan said briefly. “We can handle that. Any sightings at all?”

  “Nothing yet,” he said. “We found something over by the river, though. A rope, chewed through and tied to a tree. There was a scrap of fabric with it, too.”

  “You think it belongs to Megan or Violet?” Hogan asked.

  The warden reached into his coat and produced an evidence bag, a scrap of fabric about four inches square inside. Hogan took it. I looked over his shoulder as he examined it through the plastic, his flashlight trained on the item.

  It was white fabric, or it had been at one time. Now, however, only a small corner remained the original color; the rest was stained a dull rust red. Blood. Hogan turned it over, and was silent for a full five seconds. I could just make out a faint line of black paw prints along the border of the fabric.

  “This is Hunter’s,” he finally said. He sounded sick. Hollow. “She’s got a long john shirt she wears on the trail, and it has this print on the sleeves. Though there was no blood the last time I saw it.”

  That’s one, baby girl, a voice whispered on the air. Brock’s voice. Keep running, and we’ll do this thing one bite at a time.

  “That doesn’t have to be blood from a fresh wound, though,” Jack pointed out, his own voice measured. “We know Megan was shot early in. She could have used her shirt as a bandage.”

  “That’s most likely what it was,” the other warden agreed, looking relieved. “So now we just need to find them before this nut gets there first.”

  “You said there was a rope, too?” I asked.

  The warden produced a second baggie, this one with a length of heavy-duty blue climbing rope frayed at one end. I examined it through the bag, spotting specks of what looked like blood on the material.

  “Looks like it was chewed through,” I said. “Megan’s dog is still missing – he was the only one they didn’t find at the campsite. Maybe he’s still with Megan.”

  “Where did you find the fabric?” Hogan asked.

  “I’ve got the coordinates here, Lieutenant,” he said.

  “Good,” Hogan said under his breath. “We’ll start there.”

  The warden gave us the necessary coordinates, and left us to return to his own search.

  We looked for a stable crossing point on the partially frozen river, and half-walked, half-slid across to the other shore. I started to take a scent article from my jacket when we reached our starting point, but Hogan stilled my hand.

  “You got that from Chase?” he asked.

  “I did. It’s one of Violet’s T-shirts.”

  “Hang on,” he said. He took what looked like a bandanna from his pocket, already bagged and ready to go. “Use this instead.”

  At my questioning look, he said only, “Hunter left it at my place a couple of days before the trip. It should still have her scent.”

  I didn’t ask any other questions, but called Casper to me. He was already prancing in place despite the weather, eager to get to the job. I opened the bag and put it down to him, where he eagerly snuffled the bandanna with his short bully nose.

  “Ready, boy?” I said. He yapped his enthusiasm, tail whipping, body never stopping. “Find her, Casper!”

  The second he got the command, Casper went into work mode. His head came up, nostrils flared. The night receded, as I watched Bear’s dog sort through the scents on the air. For thirty seconds, he remained motionless.

  Then, he began.

  He stalked over the icy snow, paying no attention to the freezing rain that pelted us. Nostrils quivering. Head moving back and forth. Body never stopping.

  We followed.

  Within two hours, the freezing rain had turned to hail. Shouts in the distance were fainter now, coming less frequently and with a lot less enthusiasm. Casper’s tail was tucked between his legs, his head down as he continued following the scent.

  We’d traveled two miles from the river, moving uphill now. Despite my cleated boots, I’d fallen enough times that my knees and behind were bound to be a pretty shade of blue by morning. Jack had gone down even more than me, and continued to accept my helping hand with grace. This was definitely getting old, though.

  Hogan alone kept his feet. He walked behind us, periodically calling Megan’s name with growing urgency. It was just past three a.m., when I thought I couldn’t stand the rain or the ice or the tense silence between we three searchers another minute, that Brock returned.

  I’d just fallen hard on my behind, landing with a wallop that jolted my spine.

  Out of nowhere, his voice was back.

  Scream, and I kill you here.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe – as though there was a hand locked around my throat. Jack offered his hand, but I shook my head, desperate to hang onto the words this time.

  I closed my eyes and fought for breath, straining to hear. Why was I hearing this? How?

  I want you to beg me for your life, the voice continued, the pressure tightening around my throat until I was gasping for air. And then, when I’m done with you, I’ll watch you beg me to put a bullet in your skull.

  The voice receded. I sat on the wet ground with hail pelting me, Hogan up ahead on the trail. Jack crouched beside me, forehead furrowed with concern.

  “Breathe,” he said quietly. “Just take a minute. Deep breath in.”

  I complied, because I didn’t have it in me to fight him and I couldn’t find my voice yet.

  “Good. Now, slow exhale.” He exhaled with me, and my heart began to return to a normal rhythm.

  What’s going on?” he asked. “That voice you heard before…”

  “He has her,” I said. “He was hurting her—”

  “And you felt that?” The furrow in his forehead deepened. “You could feel what he was doing to her? How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. It’s nev
er happened before. I think he was choking her.”

  Jack shifted his flashlight to my neck, gently pulling my scarf aside. The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know about what he found.

  “There’s a mark?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was strained. “There’s a mark.”

  This time, I accepted his hand when he offered to help me up. Casper was just ahead on the trail. I was about to call him back, but in the beam of my flashlight I saw him pause. An instant later, his body snapped into focus again.

  The pit bull paused at something up ahead, though I couldn’t tell what. Head down, he snuffled for a second with his tail going like mad, then bolted on ahead.

  “He’s got something,” I said. Freezing rain continued to pelt us along the way, wind occasionally strong enough to blow me right off the trail.

  I paused at the spot where Casper had stopped and snuffled, shining my flashlight over the snow and into the brush off to the side. It took three passes before I saw it:

  A sodden piece of paper.

  I crouched to get a closer look, and called back over my shoulder. “We’ve got something.” I pulled a baggie from my pocket and gingerly picked the object up at the corner before dropping it into the bag. Then, I marked the spot on my GPS.

  “What is it?” Hogan asked, coming up on me seconds before Jack did. I handed him the baggie.

  “I’m not sure, but Casper was definitely interested.”

  He was silent, staring at the baggie.

  “You know what it is?” Jack asked as he joined us.

  “A birthday card,” Hogan said, his voice hollow. There was grief there, pain, that I hadn’t heard before. “I, uh – it was Hunter’s birthday before she left on this trip. I gave it to her then.”

  He stuffed it into his pocket before I could ask anything more, a flash of realization crossing his face. “She was here. Your dog’s got the trail.”

  I looked at my GPS, following the blinking red light that was Casper. “It looks that way. Come on.”

  We hurried on, Hogan at the front now, all of us heedless of the elements.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’d scrambled up a steep hillside and just rounded a corner when I caught sight of Casper’s orange vest as he continued on, head down. He, too, had no idea of anything going on around us. He’d found the scent.

  Five minutes later, my breath coming hard and the world slick underfoot, the dog stopped abruptly. I stared ahead of him, where the trees had opened up onto a clearing.

  And, seemingly out of nowhere, a cabin appeared.

  Gotcha, baby girl.

  Casper’s tail continued to wag as he started to approach the door, but I called him back. Hogan, however, didn’t seem nearly as concerned about safety.

  “Be careful,” I said to him, whisper-calling the words.

  “She’s not there,” Jack said, beside me. Casper, meanwhile, sat expectantly at my feet, grinning widely. Whatever else might be going on, he was clearly pleased with himself.

  “What do you mean, she’s not there?” I said. “She could be inside. They could be in there waiting for us.”

  Jack shook his head, then nodded toward the door as he shone his flashlight in that direction. “The door’s sealed with ice – look at the snow buildup at the front there.”

  “Your dog backtracked,” Hogan said, appearing in front of us. “He’s been following a cold trail.”

  “He followed the trail that was there,” I countered. The wind gusted through the trees, bringing with it a fresh onslaught of ice and hail. Casper barked at me, confused at my lack of response to his find. I shut out Hogan’s pique to take care of my dog.

  “Good boy, Caz,” I praised the dog. He hadn’t found them, I knew, but the pit bull had been working tirelessly for hours at this, and he had led us directly to the doorstep of a spot where Megan may have been not so long ago. I didn’t give Casper the toy he got after a successful find, but still gave him a handful of treats and plenty of love.

  Meanwhile, Hogan had gone back to stalking around the cabin alone, brooding.

  “How much longer do you think he can keep this up?” Jack asked me.

  “Casper or Hogan?” I asked.

  “Both.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”

  We walked around the cabin, but I pulled Casper back at sight of a shattered window out front.

  “Glass is on the inside,” Hogan said from behind me. I turned to find him standing there soaked, staring disconsolately at the building. “He must have shot in from back here somewhere.”

  “But they obviously escaped that,” I reminded him. “They were still alive at the river.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He looked up at the sky, cursing the ice and rain that fell. “Our radios are down,” he said. “I just tried to reach base. We knew it was coming, but it still throws a monkey in the works. Another one.”

  “We only have another couple of hours before this passes, right?” Jack said. He nodded to the cabin. “We could hole up, at least get dry for a while.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Hogan agreed. “Who knows how long it will be before communications are back, but it will still be easier searching once the storm’s passed. We can see about patching the window. The dog could probably use a break.”

  I looked at Casper, soaked through and with head down. One look was all it took for me to agree. “That would be good. He’s definitely more than earned it.”

  I kept Casper back while Jack and Hogan went inside to clean up the glass and patch the broken window with a tarp and some duct tape they found inside. Within ten minutes, they called us in.

  It was hardly a place I’d want to spend a lot of time, but there was a roof and walls and a woodstove Jack was gradually coaxing to life. A double bed stood against one wall, a small table and two chairs the only other furniture. Hogan sat in one of the chairs, staring at the card I’d found on the ground. I toweled Casper off and lit a couple of oil lamps, grateful when the chill began to ease from the air.

  “You guys carrying fresh clothes in your packs?” Hogan asked.

  “Dry socks and long underwear,” I said. “The outerwear is supposedly weather resistant. It should dry out fast.”

  He nodded approvingly.

  “So, that card,” Jack said, still seated on the floor in front of the woodstove. “It was for Megan’s birthday?”

  “Her fortieth,” Hogan said. I was surprised he answered. “Heather threw a big party out at their place.” He hesitated, and I could feel him weighing how much more to say. “I had a little too much to drink, so Hunter gave me a ride back to my place. Or… Well, I pretended to have a little too much to drink. I wanted to get a few minutes alone with her, though, so I could give her my present. That was the only way I could think to do it.”

  “What did you get her?” I asked.

  “She’d been wanting…” He paused, and I was pleased when he actually laughed out loud. “She has this idea about making ice cream for the dogs. Like, going commercial with it. I don’t know, Hunter’s always got some crazy scheme she wants to try out. But they didn’t want to get a goat and keep it at the WildFire base. Some of the dogs are a little nuts – if they got any kind of livestock, it wouldn’t last long.”

  “So you got her a goat?” Jack asked.

  “A couple of them,” Hogan said. “I bought a house here last year, and I have a little land. So I built a goat shelter and a nice pen, and got her a couple of milking goats. Told her she could keep them with me as long as she wanted.”

  Silence fell, for a couple of beats.

  “Wow,” I finally said. “You really do like her.”

  “Of course I like her,” he said irritably. “She’s strong willed and bull headed and stubborn as hell.”

  “Those things all basically mean the same thing,” I pointed out. “But I get your point.”

  “She’s a challenge,” he said. “And she keeps things interestin
g around here. Keeps them real.”

  He stood abruptly, paced the room twice, and headed for the door. “I’m going back out. I want to keep looking for just a while longer, see if I can catch up with some of the other searchers out here, and find out what they’ve got.”

  Jack got up from the floor, somewhat painfully. “I’ll go with you.”

  “You don’t have to—” Hogan began.

  “You shouldn’t be out there alone, especially without a radio,” Jack countered. “I’ll come back here once you’ve met up with another team.”

  I looked at Casper, who had settled uncomfortably on the hard wooden floor beside the fire. “He really needs a break—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jack assured me. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Be careful out there.”

  They promised they would be, and left me to fight the shadows of the abandoned cabin on my own.

  #

  I sat in front of the fire with Casper for a couple of minutes after the men had gone, too cold to contemplate peeling off my clothes yet – even if they were soaked. Lost in thought, I ran my fingers over the place on my throat where I had felt that hand close around my neck. Jack had been right: there was a mark. I could feel swelling, and I was sure I’d find bruises by morning. How was this happening? Why now?

  Casper thumped his tail when I pet his head, rolling over onto his belly for a good scratch. I obliged, then got up and took a blanket from my pack and lay it on the floor for him. After the day he’d put in, he deserved a bed of his own more than any of us. As soon as the blanket was down, Casper got up and began pawing at it. He dug frantically for about ten seconds and then, exhausted but apparently satisfied, lay down on his newly made bed. Within a minute, his eyes were closed. Two minutes more, and he was snoring.

  He really was a great dog. Still, I couldn’t help but miss Phantom. Our working styles meshed so well: she was quiet and independent, but she’d come to trust me enough to take direction. I had to go through the same process with her before I, too, learned to trust that she knew what she was doing. The fall she’d had earlier followed by the attack, however, made me realize that, for her as much as me, I really needed to look for a dog to take her place in the field when the time for retirement came.